


Summer Fever

by jupiter_james



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, sick Yuuri Katsuki, summer sucks in Hasetsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: Victor joins Yuuri in Hasetsu during a particularly hot off-season. When Yuuri comes down with summer fever, Victor nurses him back to health, and during that time, their real feelings come to light as well as their desire for each other.





	Summer Fever

"It's about that time," Victor says solemnly.

Yuuri doesn't even bother to look up from his book. He stretches his leg out over the tatami mats and taps the side of the tower fan with his toes to get it to face him more directly. Even with all the sliding doors open and the fan on, it's stifling today. He figures if he sprawls out on the mats as much as he can and simply doesn't move for the rest of eternity, he'll survive the summer.

"Are you listening to me?" Victor demands.

"A little," Yuuri answers. "It's too hot. I've never been good with the summer."

There's a pause. Then a concerned, "You _are_ wilting," Victor observes.

Groaning, Yuuri heaves himself over, scooting on his stomach towards the fan. Mari appears from the outside, leaning over the landing to the yard to hold out a plate of watermelon slices. "He gets like this every summer," she tells Victor. "He's weak to the heat and ends up with a fever for days."

Victor collects the plate since Yuuri is useless with his face directly in front of the airflow looking as satisfied as Makkachin before they had him groomed to thin out his coat during the heatwave. 

Victor puts the plate on the small table beside them. He leans in for a closer look. "Your face is even redder than from the sunburn yesterday."

Yuuri only groans again.

"How can you be so sensitive to the weather in your own hometown?"

"How can you _not_ be?" Yuuri shoots back. "You're from _Russia_. It must feel like the surface of the sun here." He turns his glare up, the urge to kick Victor in his perfectly shaped legs welling up. The man isn't sweating even a little.

"And so angry, too."

"It's the fever," Mari answers lightly. "Just put him in bed and let him complain to all those posters he has of you instead of making the rest of us miserable."

Victor leans over Yuuri. "Posters of me?"

"Both of you need to remember that I'm very hot and very angry about it," Yuuri cautions.

Mari scoffs. "You can't even crawl when you get like this. Victor, just stay out of grabbing range and you're fine."

Victor frowns. "You can't walk?"

"Not until it's about five degrees cooler," Yuuri answers begrudgingly. He's far too dizzy to even attempt it. And Mari's right. It's like this every summer. He's thankful every day they don't live in Kyoto this time of year.

Victor claps his hands decisively. "Good! I'm going to go find those posters! I hope they're sexy ones." He's out of Yuuri's line of sight before he can coordinate his leaden arms to try and grab for an ankle. 

"Please don't!"

"Too late!" Victor shouts back.

With extreme effort, Yuuri picks up his head to glare at his sister. "Why do you have to embarrass me like that?"

She grins. "You really have to ask?"

"I guess not," he sighs. It takes too much energy to have energy for so much as small emotions in this heat.

Mari sits down on the edge of the porch facing out into the yard. "Why not just go cool off and skate? You haven't been to Ice Castle lately. Or go to the beach."

"I'm sunburned from the beach," Yuuri mumbles. "And since Victor's back, the rink is fully booked for weeks. They're all hoping to see him."

"And _you_," Mari counters, pulling her cigarettes out of her apron. "You're the town hero with two gold medals."

"They wouldn't say that if they could see me now," Yuuri smiles anemically. 

Mari rolls her eyes. "It's the special service. Seriously, go to bed. Take that watermelon with you."

With another heartfelt groan, Yuuri slowly shimmies up onto his knees and then stands, wobbling and bracing the sides of his head like it's about to fall off. 

"Good night."

He picks up the plate of watermelon carefully. "'Night."

It takes him way too long to get up the stairs, but at least it's not a long walk to his room. He puffs out a breath once he reaches the doorway. "You actually came to look for the posters."

Victor holds up his handful. "I found them." He sets them aside and leans his back against the wall. "No sexy ones, but at least you have the ones that captured my good side." He tilts his chin rakishly and winks. He snaps his fingers. "We should have some made with the two of us! They'd sell out in minutes."

Yuuri hands off the plate before he drops it, then collapses next to Victor, flopping over onto his side, feet thrown rudely over Victor's legs.

"Wow, the summer sickness is more serious than I expected," Victor muses, patting Yuuri's flank. "You won't even yell at me for going through your stuff."

Yuuri doesn't bother to argue. He buries his face in the pillow. "So humiliating at my age."

Victor grabs the remote from the foot of the bed and clicks on the A/C wall unit. It doesn't do much on such a hot day, but it's better than nothing. "If anyone complains about you wasting electricity, just tell them that it was me who insisted. I'm a delicate flower."

Yuuri snorts into his pillow then turns his head to the side so as not to suffocate. "The heat doesn't touch you. Or the cold. Or anything. How is that possible?"

Victor laughs softly, nibbling at a slice of watermelon. "Russians don't show weakness. Of _course_ I'm hot. It's boiling here! If you'd told me, I never would have come!"

"It'll cool down a little once the rainy season really starts."

"I wouldn't mind if it rained forever, in that case."

Yuuri lethargically maneuvers onto his back. "Most people hate all the rain, but I've always liked it."

Fully invested in giving Yuuri an impromptu foot massage, Victor only hums a questioning sound. Then the statement sinks in. He eyes Yuuri. "Despite how gloomy you like to get, who on Earth loves a whole season of rain?"

"It's only two months." He heaves himself up to a sitting position and takes one of the watermelon slices. "Sure, the sun's almost never out the whole time, but that's a blessing in the summer. Plus, everything gets so green, and the hydrangeas are blooming. We have a lot of them here."

"A romantic heart," Victor says blissfully. "I've finally found it in you."

Yuuri digs his toes into Victor's side. "It's not that dramatic. It's the only good part of summer. The rest is just unending heat."

Victor reaches out and presses the back of his palm to Yuuri's forehead. "Your fever seems pretty bad. No wonder you took up a winter sport as a career. I've never seen you sick before."

Yuuri rolls his eyes. Swats Victor's hand away. "That reminds me. What were you talking about earlier when you first came in?"

"Now he wants to know."

"Stop it," Yuuri snorts. He tosses the rind back onto the plate and goes for the last slice. "Tell me." He holds up the watermelon and Victor leans over briefly to take a generous bite. Yuuri finishes the rest quickly, as he does most of his meals.

"I've decided to retire this year."

It's shocking but not surprising. More than anything, it immediately hurts. "Is that..." Yuuri pauses. Clears his throat of the waver. "Is that what you were so preoccupied with up until now?"

Victor puts the plate down on the floor. "Yes."

"You've seemed so worried for months. Especially after you got here. Maybe..." He stops.

Victor waits him out patiently.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Yuuri says, "Maybe if you're that unsure, you should stay another season."

Victor's smile is sad, but his eyes look happy. "Leaving behind my entire life is going to be a huge change," he admits. "Sometimes, finding the right time is the hardest part. It's not easy to think about rationally."

"Then leave it be!" Yuuri says a bit more loudly than intended. "You don't have to. Not yet. Not... if you don't want to. You're still in great shape. You're still skating..." The lump in his throat tightens. "Still skating so beautifully."

Victor touches Yuuri's chin, tracing his jaw to his lips. "Not all change is bad. Of course I'll never _want_ to retire. I came here to clear my head. I thought maybe it might be easier with you around."

Yesterday's sunburn might hide the flush, but he can still feel it prickling his cheeks. "It has nothing to do with me."

"I disagree."

The firmness of the statement pulls Yuuri up short. "What do you mean?"

"I realize you're the kind of person who thinks that strength is measured by how much you can bear without complaint on your own, but haven't I moved past that wall yet, even just a little?"

Somehow, he's making Victor sadder. That's the opposite of what he wants. But complaining to someone other than himself is strongly anathema to who he is. Victor can talk about his feelings for hours on end. Enthusiastically. He adores gossip. In this regard, they're polar opposites. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "It's not that I don't want to."

"I know," Victor says, smiling smally again. "Will it bother you if explain?"

Yuuri lowers himself back down, exhausted and devastated for Victor. He stares at the ceiling, stubbornly refusing to blink in case his vision is swimming from more than the fever. "It doesn't bother me."

"I'm serious about you," Victor says softly, bluntly. "I'm not sure I've ever made that clear I actual words."

Yuuri presses his lips together tightly.

Gently, Victor picks up Yuuri's right hand. "I know you called it a good luck charm, but I took it upon myself to think about it differently." He strokes his thumb over the ring that hasn't left Yuuri's finger since Victor put it there over two years ago. 

He's quiet for a time, then says distantly as if to himself, "I got pretty carried away in my own fantasy."

Instead of saying anything that's pushing up insistently behind his ribs, Yuuri quips, "Since when have you been a daydreamer?"

"You're making fun of me."

"I'm not," Yuuri assures the ceiling.

"But you don't want me to tell you all of my feelings." He switches to Japanese. "_It's a burden._"

Yuuri regrets ever having used that phrase more than once around him. "It's not."

"I love you."

The perfect lie is that it _is_ a burden. It's incredibly heavy. And it's not like he has the weight of past romantic experiences to buoy him like Victor does. It sinks him like a rock. It terrifies him. If Victor lets go of him, he'll be lost in the dark forever. _That's_ the burden he doesn't want to share. _That's_ the burden that bothers him. How could he make anyone else responsible for that sort of thing? How could he face himself afterwards?

The thumb that had been rhythmically stroking over his ring is now swiping away wetness at his temples. 

"I'm sorry," Victor says, and the worst part is that he sounds sincere.

Yuuri curls his fists hard against his eyes, arms raised, pressing until he sees stars. "Please don't say that!"

Victor falls silent again. The whir of the air conditioning and the buzz of cicadas takes over. Yuuri can't even move when his arms start to fall asleep. But something finally stirs Victor.

"Maybe it's not fair, but I want to ask you again: what do you want me to be to you?"

"No, it's fair," Yuuri mumbles. It was a fair question when they first met and it's a fair question now. The only thing is, he's not sure if the answer's changed at all. On the surface, of course it hasn't. He's _always_ wanted Victor to just be himself. But he also wants... "I want you to be greedy," he says. He unclenches his hands to cover as much of his face as possible. "I want to be that person in your daydream. I want us to be..." he trails off.

"I'm listening," Victor murmurs.

Yuuri makes a frustrated noise. There's no way around it anymore. In a rush of embarrassment he says, "How could you go this long thinking that I didn't love you, too?" His arms flop down onto the bed. He blinks against the sudden brightness, searching out Victor's gaze. It's on him already. Wide and open and everything Katsuki Yuuri struggles to be. "I do, Victor." He doesn't care how much his voice crackles. He has to open up. He needs to meet Victor halfway. It's fair. "I'm right here. I'm not a daydream. You can tell me what you want."

In a flash, Victor is on the floor right next to Yuuri, cupping his face in both hands, forcing their eyes to lock. He's taking up all the space that existed between them both literally and metaphorically. "I'm going to tell you everything," he warns severely. "I've put off life and love for thirty years, and you've made it necessary for me, so I'm going to tell you everything."

"Okay," Yuuri breathes.

Voice low and steady like an oncoming steamroller, Victor says, "I came to be your trainer for my sake, not yours. That video of you skating my routine... I thought it was an invitation after you'd asked me at the banquet, but when you said you didn't remember..."

A helpless laugh bubbles up despite the fear. "What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter," Victor continues, more to himself than to Yuuri. He shakes his head vigorously. "I _did_ see so much potential in you, and I _did_ love the way moved like the music was coming from your body, and I _did_ want you to win. But. When I saw that video... Yuuri, it was the first time that whole year where I _felt_ something. That inspiration I'd been missing. It also made me remember who you were. I had forgotten all about what you said to me. Anyway, it was really self-serving, but you still let me coach you, no matter how many times I failed at it."

"Your motivational speeches are still terrible," Yuuri points out.

Victor smiles. His grip on Yuuri's face slackens in favor of letting his fingers trail lightly down his cheeks to his neck. His hands are trembling and cold. "I'm so selfish."

Yuuri laughs again. "I already knew that."

"Then, here's everything. I never meant to push you, but I had my own daydream, anyway. You took me outside that church and gave me this ring, and I was so happy I thought I could die right there."

Yuuri scoffs gently, but Victor doesn't let him get away with that. 

He takes both of Yuuri's hands in his. "I wanted to imagine what it would mean if it was real. Good luck charms are important to some people, but..."

It's the fever. It has to be. It's making him delirious. Making him brave. Making him deliriously brave. "If that was the only thing that it meant, I would have got something different," Yuuri says. "I spent the whole day, and half of the evening looking for something that I couldn't find. Until I did."

Victor laughs softly this time. He sits back cross legged, but still close. "It's my turn to be confused."

Yuuri holds up his hand, the ring still as shiny as the day he bought it. "This means a lot of different things to me. Luck, gratitude... You say you're selfish, but I'm just a coward. It didn't have to be a ring. You know?"

"Our love," Victor says slowly, painfully hopeful, "is the same."

"Yeah," Yuuri confirms, his whole tired body alight with it. "I think it is."

"It's okay for me to imagine a future with you even after I retire."

"You were worried about that?"

"It was near the top of the list," Victor admits.

"I'm not going anywhere." And face as hot as the day outside, adds, "I'll stay with you as long as you want me to."

"Forever could turn out to be a long time," Victor answers, grin spreading.

"You promise?"

Victor kisses his ring and then Yuuri's. "I promise." Then he leans forward and kisses Yuuri on the lips. It's hesitant and light, so very different from his personality. Almost like he doesn't believe it's happening.

Yuuri knows _that_ feeling. They're definitely on the same wavelength. He'll do his best to keep them there. 

Victor ends the kiss, pressing their foreheads together. "Let me coach you for another season."

"You're not going to let me have all my usual arguments this year?"

"No," he says firmly. "I want to see you one more time like our first season together. I want to see you skate for the both of us."

Yuuri strokes his fingers through Victor's soft hair. "That's a really high bar."

"You can do it. You skated for love before and look where it got you."

"True. It'll have to be huge if I'm carrying Victor Nikiforov's love, too. I'm counting on you to come up with something incredible."

Victor kisses him again. "Hearing you say something so romantic..." he huffs. "Right now, I feel like I can do anything."

"We'll see about that once I'm ready to get back on the ice again."

"Get well soon, then," Victor says.

"I will," Yuuri answers.

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

Yuuri does not get well soon. The heat spikes, as does Yuuri's fever, and he ends up in a state of semi-wakefulness and fitful sweating sleep for the better part of the week. His family assures Victor that there's nothing strange about it with wry smiles, but that doesn't stop the hovering from a stir crazy Russian and his loyal dog, who appears to be turning traitor in favor of the man laying prone to the summer fever day and night.

Victor steadfastly refuses to leave his side. On the second day when he's left to take a shower, Mari gives in and puts a guest futon next to the bed and shakes her head at her unconscious brother.

His parents offer to sit with their son, but are politely and firmly turned away. Instead they bring him food for two, medication and cold packs for one.

For as physically demonstrative as Victor Nikiforov is with Yuuri on a normal day, everyone has obviously noticed the shift in the atmosphere, though Victor is too obsessed with his fiance to attend the family dinner where sekihan is served. Not like he'd understand the significance of it. Yuuri certainly wouldn't have explained it. And the family seemed to enjoy their inside joke.

None of it triggers Victor's keen observational skills at the moment. Not when he's this busy. It's been four days, and Yuuri is still the worse for wear. So he devotes himself to fever reducers and cold compress strips. He's diligently changing an old one out for a new one in the middle of the night when Sleeping Beauty at last stirs awake. 

Naturally he chooses to be ungrateful. "You don't have to stay here," he says, voice rough from disuse.

Too relieved to muster up any indignation, he says, "I feel guilty. Like our heart to heart overheated your brain."

Yuuri coughs a laugh. "I'm not _that_ weak. What time is it?"

"Late."

Limbs heavy, Yuuri struggles to sit up, Victor helping him with almost painful attentiveness. He accepts a bottle of water and downs half of it in one go. Then he gets a good look at his companion in the dim light from the desk lamp. "You look awful," he says, shocked.

"I haven't slept well," Victor says apologetically, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm not used to being a nurse." He laughs a bit self-deprecating. "Once you get to my age, sleepless nights always show on the face. Terrible, isn't it?"

"Thank you."

Victor shakes his head and sits down heavily on the floor looking for all the world like his strings have just been cut.

Yuuri drags the curtains open to see rain pouring heavily outside in the darkness. The rainy season has finally begun. It's such a relief. He leans against the wall, still a bit weak. Makkachin gives him a small _boof_ of recognition when Yuuri wiggles his toes under him. Victor with his back against the bed frame, sitting on his unmade futon. The room is really crowded. He smiles. Strokes the back of Victor's neck, feeling the tension leak out with his long sigh and lean into the caress. "Maybe we should spend the summers in St. Petersburg."

Victor blinks. "What?"

"What?" Yuuri echoes. "Did you want us to live somewhere else permanently? I thought it would be nice to split our time between here and your home. Sorry. We can talk about it later. It's really late and you look exhausted."

"Live together," Victor says faintly. "All year."

Yuuri's brow furrows. "You don't want to?"

"I've finally fallen asleep. I'm dreaming."

"You're being ridiculous. Forget it." He slumps back down, facing the wall.

Of course, Victor won't let him be embarrassed in peace. He crawls into the bed and presses against Yuuri, wrapping his arm over his chest. Instinctively, Yuuri traps Victor's hand right over his heart. "I want to. I was hoping you hadn't just said all of those things the other day because of your fever."

"I'd never do that," Yuuri says, affronted. 

Victor squeezes tighter. "It's because I want it too badly. I want _you_ too badly. It's a dream come true. It's still sinking in."

"You're doing that thing where you get overly dramatic again," Yuuri mumbles, though his heart is pounding with pleasure. He should be the one saying those things. Victor doesn't have more than a decade of admiration to dig the depth of his love like Yuuri does. Victor just let himself fall completely, no second guesses. It's miraculous. Enviable.

The rain gets louder and Victor clings. Makkachin wiggles around before resettling over both of their entwined legs. In obviously practiced Japanese, Victor says, "_let's stay together forever._"

Yuuri will _never_ ask who taught him that. "Okay," he answers.

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

Victor's first order of business once Yuuri is mobile again, is to announce their official engagement to the family with the dramatic air of a magician revealing that he hadn't, in fact, been sawed in half. The family reacts exactly as though they've seen it a hundred times and also know how it works.

Victor mopes for a full day about it, but is mollified by the katsudon dinner with his favorite sweet potato shochu.

Yuuri calls Victor easily bought, but Hiroko pats both of the boys on the shoulder as she clears away the dishes saying, "A mother is always good at keeping her sons happy."

"Thank you, Mother," Victor says in drunk solemnity.

"Have a spring wedding," she says. "The pictures would be lovely."

"Where would you do it? I mean, that Shinto temple might do a religious ceremony since all the priests are fans and Yuuri is a cultural ambassador, but..." Mari asks, pouring Victor more sake because she loves seeing him giddy and so humiliatingly similar to the Katsuki men when inebriated. "I figured it would be televised or something."

Yuuri's own sip of sake decidedly goes down the wrong pipe. He coughs heartily. "Televised?" he asks weakly once recovered.

Mari leans towards Victor conspiratorially. "He keeps forgetting that he's as famous as you are now."

"Japanese modesty!" Victor crows delightedly. "Adorable! Yuuri!" He drapes himself over Yuuri's shoulders, nearly sloshing his drink everywhere. "We're a celebrity couple!" 

Yuuri plants his palm over Victor's face, shoving him away. "No, we're not."

Mari scoffs. "Have you forgotten about the media circus that showed up at the airport when you arrived home with those gold medals? We almost didn't make it out alive."

"They were hoping Victor would be with me," Yuri mumbles, slumping down as far as he can go.

"We'll work on that attitude," Victor promises. "You can't blame me for everything, anymore. We're a _couple._"

"So many of my life's decisions seem to have put me on the wrong course," Yuuri says.

Mari actually laughs. "Victor, your bride is already so troublesome."

"Why do I have to be the bride?" Yuuri demands, well into the belligerent drunk stage.

"Victor's taller," Mari and Hiroko say in unison.

"I love this family," Victor says adoringly, resting his chin in his hand.

Toshiya hums, pouring Victor yet another drink. "How about we have a reception here? It's good for business and we can keep the media out."

"No, you can't," Yuuri protests, vividly recalling Victor's first appearance at the hot spring.

"We can if we try," Mari winks.

"It's my son's special day!" Toshiya says, pink in the cheeks from the alcohol, but for all the world, earnest. "We'll make it good."

Touched beyond belief, Yuuri says, "thanks, Dad." He ducks his head to focus on the table before getting all blubbery again. He knows his family will support him in anything he does - they always have. But moving to America for five years to attend college and salvage a mediocre skating career is a lot different than announcing that he wants to spend the rest of his life with a man. He hadn't expected prejudice per se, not from his family, but he also hadn't expected such immediate and open encouragement.

He also hadn't expected a sly, "have a good night, you two," from his mother once the dishes were cleared away and everyone starting to yawn.

Victor, of course, picks up on it immediately and doesn't let Yuuri escape. The first order of business for the bedtime routine is letting Makkachin out for his nightly ritual, and Victor grabs Yuuri's hand to drag him outside to the courtyard while they wait.

Alone with Victor for the first time after being fully recovered, he's suddenly nervous as hell. Especially considering that Victor is acting the same as always. It makes him feel a little foolish, though he supposes he'll be forgiven for being a fish out of water.

A light misty rain is falling, promising another downpour later, so he and Victor seat themselves on the landing under the overhang while Makkachin menaces a small branch in the yard to work off the last of his energy before bed.

"Are you scared about all of this?" Victor asks as he watches the dog.

So much for hoping that Victor would be forgetful when Yuuri wants him to be. "Kind of," he answers. "It's all new to me."

"Me, too," Victor chuckles.

"We've been over my lack of romantic history."

Victor threads their fingers together. "I'm not worried about it in the least."

"That's not surprising, considering how infamous you are for your escapades."

Victor scoffs. "That was a long time ago."

"That was three years ago," Yuuri laughs despite himself.

"I'm in love now," Victor says. "It's new to me."

"But at least you know what you're... you know... _doing_."

"Well," Victor drawls. "For the most part. I asked Chris for pointers."

"That makes is so much worse," Yuuri groans, head hanging. A warm hand on his shoulder turns him back.

Victor's eyes are shining in that way that's just for him. "Yuuri. I'm scared, too. Sex is sex. Anyone willing to try it can figure it out eventually. For us, love comes first. I wasn't lying when I told you that I had put it all off for the sake of my career. Living a life for the sake of something other than the next competition; finding fulfillment in it... it's new. It's scary."

Eyes cast down to their entwined hands, Yuuri mumbles, "Because you think you might be disappointed?"

Victor knocks their foreheads together a little painfully. "No. I'm happy. I'm just not used to such big changes. But I have you to be with me through it. We'll take as much time as we need."

"Thanks," Yuuri answers, rubbing the slight sore spot on his forehead a little. "I'm with you."

Victor whistles sharply and Makkachin immediately trots over. Victor stands, hauling Yuuri up with him. "Time for bed," he announces.

Heart thumping, Yuuri allows himself to be led back inside and up the stairs to the private bathroom reserved for the family. The top floors are dark; everyone clearly having already gone to bed.

Victor always favors the public bath, so bringing Yuuri up here must mean... It means that Yuuri is starting to shake all over, and it has nothing to do with the lingering fatigue from his prolonged illness. A million questions flit through his head. They also disappear faster than a fly avoiding a swatter.

For his part, Victor says nothing at all. He just smiles that same enigmatic smile. Removes his clothes slowly. Places them in the basket next to the towels.

Feeling stupider by the second, Yuuri follows along. They've seen each other naked countless times already. It's not weird. It's the nature of a public rotenburo.

Tonight it just means more. Or it _could_ mean more. Maybe? Yuuri keeps expecting hands all over him every minute because that's Victor's MO.

But Victor moves around like Yuuri isn't even there. He turns on the overhead shower as well as the taps to fill the bath. Then he offers out the shampoo bottle to Yuuri.

Yuuri shuffles forward and takes it, while Victor removes the shower head from the hook and rinses them both off. 

"Can I wash you?" Victor asks, voice barely carrying over the noise of the shower and the pounding in Yuuri's ears.

"Um."

"No funny business," he promises. "I've always wanted to."

Yuuri smiles at that. Trust Victor to be sappy about every little thing. For what it's worth, it sets him more at ease. He turns his back to Victor, facing the wall, and holds up the shampoo bottle, squirting a bit in his outstretched hand.

It takes all of ten seconds before Yuuri decides that this is the best idea ever.

Victor isn't just washing him; Victor is downright pampering him. He gently tilts Yuuri's head back to avoid getting soap in the eyes, then sets about giving him the scalp massage of the gods. First with the shampoo, then with the conditioner, until Yuuri's whole head tingles with euphoria. The soft moan he can't help isn't precisely sexual, and Victor seems to pick up on that, because his response is a self-satisfied hum.

Slurred with relaxed bliss, Yuuri says, "You'll have to teach me this is you want anything similar in return."

Warm, wet lips brush his earlobe. "I'm not picky if it's you."

That's the first jolt. The tingling pleasure ripples down his whole body, raising goose bumps despite the hot water.

If Victor notices, he ignores it. He rinses Yuuri's hair thoroughly before reaching around for the soap and the sponge. "May I continue?"

The second jolt. Yuuri glances down at himself in mild panic. He isn't hard, though the thought of Victor's hands on him even more, makes his dick start to consider it. He swallows loudly. "Yes."

Victor starts on Yuuri's arms, dragging the cloth from shoulder to hands, his touch almost perfunctory. Despite that, Yuuri feels his nerve endings awaken with each swipe. Down his back, across his chest. 

As new and scary as it is, he wants _so much more_ than this. The thing is, he has no _clue_ how to ask for it.

"You can do the rest," Victor says, jarring him out of his budding arousal. Before he can protest, the wash cloth is shoved into his hands followed by the sounds of Victor washing himself. It's such a shame that Yuuri nearly chokes on it.

Once again, Victor rinses them off, then turns off the shower completely. The tub is full, so he climbs right in and shuts off the water. He folds his knees up, then leans back, eyes closed. "Join me for a soak?"

Yuuri scrambles to comply. He splashes into the tub opposite Victor. He sits the same way and stares. "It's cramped with two grown men," is all he can think of.

"I enjoy it," Victor says.

Yuuri folds his arms over his knees, balling himself up. "You keep surprising me."

A blue-green eye cracks open. "Oh?"

Yuuri slumps forward. "No funny business."

"How is that a surprise? I promised."

"I know, it's just..."

Victor reaches out and touches his knee. "I won't do anything you're not ready for. Never."

"I wish I knew what I was ready for," he sighs. "How did I get to be twenty-seven like this? I feel stupid."

Victor starts to smile. "You shouldn't. But you _should_ stop calling me the romantic one. Clearly it's you waiting for the right person."

Yuuri splashes him with water. "If you make fun of me, that right person won't be you."

Victor drapes his arms nonchalantly over the edge of the tub. "You're in good company, you know. Competitive skating isn't just a normal job. It's a way of life. Those of us who have managed to achieve a spot on the podium have sold our souls to that end. Everything else is secondary. _Especially_ love."

"_You've_ managed," Yuuri points out.

Victor laughs. "Maybe not as much as, say, an Olympic athlete. And definitely not falling in love."

That makes Yuuri laugh, too. "I've heard stories about the Olympics."

Victor turns his palm over on the lip of the tub inviting Yuuri to take it. "Let me ask you something. Do you think less of me for having sex without love?"

"Of course not," Yuuri says, eyebrows shooting up.

Victor nods, satisfied. "Then why would I think less of you for waiting? I think it's wonderful that you consider it to be an expression of a deeper connection." He purses his lips, tilting his head thoughtfully from side to side. "Plus, releasing the tension doesn't need more than one set of hands, anyway!"

Yuuri stands and grabs his towel, stepping over the lip of the tub. "We're not talking about that no matter how curious you get."

"Shame."

"I'm going to bed." Yuuri quickly scrubs away the worst of the dripping water and wraps the towel tightly around his waist, taking flight to the bedroom before Victor has anything else to say. But he's not quite embarrassed enough to not go to Victor's room after dressing in a pair of sleep shorts and t-shirt. By the time he's returned, Victor is there in only a pair of boxers. He prefers sleeping nude, so Yuuri generally appreciates the modesty compromise.

"You're really going to sleep here tonight?" Victor asks, sounding too pleased to say no to.

Yuuri ducks his head. "For some reason, it feels weirder to not to." He scratches at his ear. "I don't have to."

Victor offers out both hands. "Whatever you want."

Yuuri takes his hands, stepping in, taking the initiative. He tilts his head up to kiss Victor's warm, willing lips.

They've kissed each other countless times by now. All sorts of kisses that Yuuri has come to love. They're all so different. Victor seems to have a never ending repertoire depending on where they are and who initiates.

If Yuuri had to pick a favorite, he privately admits that the airport greeting kisses are the best. Physically, mentally, emotionally, there's always been a sense of urgency between Yuuri and Victor. Everyone's noticed that Victor and Yuuri don't simply approach one another. They run towards each other. All the time. It's worse when they haven't seen each other for a couple of months after the competition season ends. It doesn't matter which airport or how many people are around them. Victor will fly at him, their mouths meeting almost before any other part of their bodies, crushing their lips together, then holding him so tightly it's like he wants them to melt together as one. Like the time they spent apart was just _that_ unbearable.

It usually is, so Yuuri doesn't mind the confirmation. He feels what Victor feels. He has since day one. 

So maybe, just maybe, Victor has the same trepidation of changing the routine so late in the game, too.

Yuuri closes the last of the gap between them with a simple sliding step. Victor's so warm. He's been soaking in one of the milk baths lately so his skin is extra soft. Yuuri lets his hands wander over his arms, the defined biceps twitching. His shoulders and back respond similarly, especially when Yuuri slips his tongue into Victor's mouth, eliciting a tiny gasp, and apparently, the end of the Russian's restraint.

His hands frame Yuuri's face, roughly tilting his head for a better angle, and just like that, Yuuri's lost his tenuous control over the situation. Victor dives deep and takes all the air with him. It's deep, filthy, wet, and by the end of it, Yuuri's pretty sure his legs have fallen off, they're so unsteady.

Victor feels it because he wraps an arm around Yuuri's waist, hauling him up properly.

It brings their bodies into fuller contact, Victor's erection unmistakable against Yuuri's hip. Yuuri gasps.

"Sorry," Victor whispers against Yuuri's temple. He jerks his hips back. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he repeats again and again while walking them backwards towards the bed.

Yuuri wants to tell him there's no need for apologizes, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth. Forming words is impossible. Luckily, Victor is fully in control as quickly as he lost it before. He tucks Yuuri into bed, then turns to Makkachin. "Please sleep in Yuuri's room tonight," he commands.

The dog wags his tail. Victor sighs, leads him through the door, then slides it shut. Makkachin whines for a moment, then gets bored, claws clicking on the floor as he wanders away. 

Victor slips under the covers and rolls away from Yuuri to turn off the light. He settles with a long breath out.

Yuuri presses himself against Victor's back, incongruously saying, "it's really hot."

"I run warm."

"So does July," Yuuri chuckles.

"The bed is big enough for us not to touch. I'm just happy sleeping with you."

"It's only been in hotels, hasn't it?" Yuuri asks. He doesn't particularly care, but he's so nervous that he can't stop with the asinine conversation to distract himself.

He's been dying to touch Victor. Two years, he's watched the man. Seen his sleeping face across a few feet of hotel room. He knows everything about the way his body moves, his gestures, his mannerisms, the way he smiles when he's about to say something mean. All of Victor is precious to him.

But the man of movement is being unnaturally still tonight. He's not precisely tense, though he's obviously regulating his breathing and doing everything he can to be as motionless as possible.

Yuuri tucks his knees up, fitting them to the back's of Victor's, then also settles. He won't sleep a wink like this.

Not like it's a priority. It feels so nice to be pressed up against Victor, summer heat or not. Victor keeps the room cool, anyway. He runs the A/C unit until the last minute before falling asleep and keeps two desk fans pointed towards either side of the bed at all times. 

"I didn't mean to get worked up earlier," Victor murmurs into the darkness.

Yuuri shifts, rubbing at Victor's arm comfortingly. Then, finding the sensation pleasing, trails his fingers over the toned muscles at his leisure, loving that Victor lets him. "It's okay," he assures him. "I'd be pretty upset if you had no reaction to me."

Victors laugh rumbles against Yuuri. "I've been reacting to you since the day we met."

"I saw you naked in the bath, and that wasn't the case," Yuuri points out.

"I mean at the banquet," Victor corrects. He moves his arm back to press his hand against Yuuri's hip.

That gives Yuuri excuse to explore Victor's ribs and side. Soft over hard. Small goose bumps rising. "I'm almost sad I can't remember any of it."

"Right before the dance offs, you came up to me. You said I should come and visit the hot spring during the off season, and then if you won the dance off, I should be your coach." He sighs in dramatic rapture. "You threw yourself on me. I... something about you... how different you were without any inhibitions. My whole chest ached."

Yuuri laughs silently. "Right. I'm glad I can't remember that." He kisses the back of Victor's neck, cuddling closer. His hand slips down to Victor's bare chest, gently opening and closing his fist just to feel more of him.

"Maybe things would have been different if you had," Victor muses. 

"You think so?"

"How embarrassed would you have been to talk to me after knowing what happened?" Victor asks dryly.

"You're so right," Yuuri agrees. "I'd never have been able to look you in the face."

"It was love at first sight."

"You big liar." 

"It was _something_ at first sight."

Yuuri traces the dip between Victor's pecs. "Weren't you known for lust at first sight?"

"I am," Victor answers, voice filled with laughter. 

"Present tense?" Without thinking, Yuuri pinches Victor's nipple.

Victor jumps and yelps, slapping Yuuri's hand away. "Ouch! No! Not 'am,' I was! I was, Yuuri! I only have eyes for you!"

Thrilled with the response, Yuuri settles his hand on Victor's hip. "You know, I always wondered what the fuss was about when I was already happy."

"The fuss?" Victor echoes.

Yuuri tilts his head to bury his nose in the sweet smelling hair on the nape of Victor's neck. "Until that horrible season, I was happy with my life. I know it was nothing special. Not like what you'd been doing. You'd been my goal since the beginning. I kept hoping one day that we'd skate on the same ice as equals. Either way, I was still happy. I might have been a dime a dozen skater, but I was still living my dream. And then when you showed up? I started to understand what the fuss was about."

Victor is quiet. Solid. "Hmm. Love and passion. Sometimes they're hard to put together."

"I didn't even know what the second one was until you told me it was in me. You choreographed that Eros program. I wanted so badly to show you that your time as my coach wasn't wasted. You got inside me, and now there's this Victor Nikiforov who lives on in my skating and in my heart, and he'll never go away. He brought in that passion to go along with the love of everyone who helped me get to this point, and... I never knew something like that was possible. I'm grateful. So, so grateful, Victor."

Victor pushes his face fully into his pillow. Muffled and barely audible he says, "I never thought I'd hear you say anything like that to me."

Yuuri blinks. "Are you embarrassed?"

"_Mph._"

Yuuri kisses the back of Victor's neck again and again. "You're _embarrassed_!"

Victor wiggles and wiggles. Yuuri wiggles and wiggles until he's almost directly on top of Victor. He's elated with this turn of events.

"Stop moving," Victor complains.

"Look at me, Victor," Yuuri coddles.

"I refuse." He pointedly faces the wall again.

This is fun. Easy. Victor makes it all better. Life worth living. It's not pointless without him, but it sucks a whole lot more. 

He hasn't shown Victor that, not really. He needs to. He has to show Victor that they're in this together. They always will be. That's what love is. That's what it means. It's more than just being a team. It's about bringing out the best in each other. Showing each other and the world what love means.

Grinning, Yuuri presses himself squarely against Victor's back again as they'd been when they first laid down together. 

It's an effort to resettle because every few seconds, Yuuri feels tiny carbonated giggles bubble into his throat. Victor tries to sulk about it, but Yuuri pins him halfway with one leg trapped between Victor's and his hand over his belly, holding fast. "You're not angry."

"You can't tell that."

"Yes, I can," Yuuri says smugly. "You cry when you're angry."

"It's my belief that lovers should have at least a few secrets between them," he says primly.

"We do," Yuuri murmurs, spreading his fingers. Victor's abs clench unconsciously, and just as involuntarily, Yuuri's dick twitches. He hadn't fully realized how suggestive their position was until now, but... it's a very good thing. He tips his chin, lips level with Victor's ear. "But all those secrets are probably mine. I'm not as brave as you."

Victor sighs, body going lax against Yuuri. "You're not as big of a coward as you say you are, either."

Yuuri strokes over Victor's stomach again. Lower to where the elastic of his boxers meets skin. He dips his finger just underneath. Victor makes a strangled sound. He grabs Yuuri's wrist hard. "You..."

"What?"

"If you do that..."

Yuuri goes just a tiny bit further, single finger tracing over the sharp jut of Victor's hipbone. "Can I?"

Victor lets go. "Yes."

Yuuri presses closer and closer. He snakes his left hand underneath Victor to brace against his chest. Victor's heart is racing. It makes Yuuri's do the same in return. His hands are sweating and he's starting to tremble, but he wants this. Badly. "You're really okay with this?"

Victor nods, covers his mouth to keep his voice down. "I was hoping... the whole time," he strains.

Yuuri slides his wandering finger down the side of Victor's cock, thrilling at how it rapidly grows harder as he does. Hot and silk. He can't help it. He wraps his hand around it, stroking just once.

The noise Victor makes is beautiful. Loud for a split second, trailing to a low, reedy moan. He thrusts back against Yuuri, muscles taut.

"I won't be any good at this," Yuuri says, breathing picking up. Experimentally, he carefully strokes several more times.

Head buried in the pillow again, Victor meets Yuuri's clumsy pace with his hips and grabs onto the sheets in a white knuckled grip. "Not true," he grits.

"Come here," Yuuri says quietly. "Turn over. I want to see you."

Immediately, Victor rolls over into Yuuri's arms, offering his lips, his body. Fluidly, he lifts Yuuri's shirt over his head, giving him every opportunity to stop. 

Like he would. He's been waiting for this night for his whole life. He loves Victor so much he can taste it in the back of this throat all the time. He needs to taste it more. He shoves Victor's boxers down at the same time that Victor seems to need the rest of his skin, too.

This is what it likes when it all meets. Sharing this with Victor... he knew it'd be special, but there's magic here.

He drinks it up; drinks it in. Victor's mouth against his, hotter by the second, breathing hitched with the softest, "_ah!_" sounds just for Yuuri to hear.

It's almost like it doesn't matter that Yuuri has no clue what he's doing. That Victor is so wrapped up in this singular moment of desire, none of the others he's had enter his mind for the smallest of moments to be compared. 

In fact, it takes almost no time at all. Victor's entire body begins to tense tighter and tighter, a litany of whispered, moaned, beatific Russian spilling from his mouth in a tirade that's only stopped by a singular, "Oh, God!" And he's spilling a thick rope of come over Yuuri's hand and belly.

His eyes pop wide. "I..." he gasps hoarsely.

Yuuri smiles.

Victor pulls him down for kiss after kiss, then holds him in shaking arms. Against his shaking body. "You're a miracle," he murmurs, sounding completely gobsmacked.

"I was okay?" Yuuri asks, suddenly needing more validation than just the evidence coating his hand.

Victor hauls up, heaves them over, and flattens Yuuri onto his back. He reaches to the nightstand for the box of tissues, offering a handful for Yuuri to clean himself with. "It was wonderful," he says. His eyes shine even in the almost-total darkness.

"I'll learn more," Yuuri promises.

"Oh?" Victor has gone from breathless to leering in the blink of an eye. 

"Yes," Yuuri says decisively.

Victor grins. "You've always been studious. Determined. I love that about you. So, should I teach you more?"

Yuuri tosses the tissues into the wastebasket by the bed. Much more confident now that he's sure that he can at least bring Victor some measure of pleasure he says, "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing anymore," Victor answers, dipping down. He kisses Yuuri long and languid. Small pecks over every inch of his lips. Tongue flicking out occasionally, but mostly frustratingly light feather touches that leave Yuuri's lips feeling oversensitive.

It's almost unbearable until Victor starts to move down.

He takes his time, unhurried now that his own body has been sated, and it would be an annoyance of torture for Yuuri if it didn't feel so damn good. 

He's not completely at a loss here; he has had a few minor experiences with this sort of thing, but _Victor_. Victor anoints him as though it's the only thing in the world that he's ever wanted to do. 

A swirl of tongue over his nipple shoots pleasure all the way down Yuuri's legs. The trailing fingers would be ticklish if not for the fact that he is so turned on it almost hurts. Small nips of teeth are electric. Soft supple lips are a revelation.

Lower and lower Victor wanders. Yuuri can do nothing besides arch his spine when Victor's teeth dig into his hip. His back arches. "Victor!" Yuuri cries out.

He can feel the grin against his inner thigh. "I can see you're enjoying it. Is there something else you want?"

Yuuri grabs the pillow to either side of his head. "All of you!" he gasps. "I don't... all of it!"

He can't describe the feeling of Victor's mouth moving to his thighs. Frustration, but he wants it to keep going on forever. He could take this all night.

Well. Until a wet heat closes around the tip of his hard dick. "Oh!" His hands fly down. His fingers tangle into Victor's hair viciously.

There's a moment of hard suction, then Victor stretches his jaw, going as deeply as he can. 

"Please don't stop!" Yuuri begs. "Victor, it's..!"

Victor hums, bobbing his head in short bursts, stiff tongue tracing the bottom of Yuuri's cock.

"I'm gonna!" Yuuri tries to jerk his hips away, but Victor stops him with a forearm over his belly, holding fast.

Yuuri's hips buck wildly. His eyes snap closed. He comes hard down Victor's throat. It feels like it goes on forever. Victor doesn't let up. His jaw loosens and he continues to suckle at Yuuri's spent cock until Yuuri is trembling wildly with overstimulation.

"Victor," Yuuri moans, arms outstretched in the general direction of his lover.

"I'm here," Victor assures him, raspy. 

Yuuri opens his eyes just in time to see Victor wipe the corner of his swollen lips with the pad of his thumb.

The sight is incredibly hot.

"I want to kiss you, so give me a minute to go and brush my teeth," Victor says.

Yuuri grabs at Victor, yanking him back up the bed. "Now."

With a laugh, Victor complies. It's salt and bitter and Yuuri doesn't care in the slightest. He kisses Victor for as long as he wants to. Slows down once the thrumming in his body begins to abate. It gives way to heavy-limbed exhaustion.

"I'll have to learn that, too," he slurs eventually.

Victor cuddles up beside him, holding him with an arm slung over his chest, though not pressing too closely while they cool off with the fans. "Only if you want to. Not everyone enjoys oral sex. I happen to love both giving and receiving, so don't feel obligated either way."

Yuuri mulls it over for a second. "I'd rather be able to make you feel a fraction of what I just did," he decides.

Victor brushes Yuuri's sweaty bangs off of his forehead. "You're wonderful for my ego. Trust me: I felt the same as you."

"I guess we have plenty of time to... explore."

Victor laughs outright. "Did I wake a beast?"

"You might have," Yuuri shrugs with a smirk. "Eros makes a lot more sense now. Desire and fulfillment and drowning and pleasure. It's a shame I already skated that program."

Victor groans. "I'm far too jealous. That never would have worked."

"I'm yours forever," Yuuri assures him in a fit of sentimentality. 

Victor raises up onto his elbow to peer down at Yuuri, expression impossibly soft. "Then I guess it wouldn't be so bad to make everyone else in the world wish they were me every time they watched you compete."

"Sounds good to me," Yuuri says on a yawn. One more kiss and then he's dozing. The last thing he remembers before Victor holding him again, is murmuring, "Let Makkachin back in. He hates being without you as much as I do."


End file.
